Chapter Thirteen:


"Like dis, homme?"

"Yeah, that's it, man. Just keep your wieght centered and...never mind."

Rogue burst out laughing as Remy toppled off of Evan's new skateboard, which Hank had picked up for him during the supply run to the mainland, and hit the pavement. Remy rolled to his feet, brushing off his duster. "Somet'ing funny, chere?" he demanded.

"Yeah," Rogue answered with a smirk. "You tryin' t' learn t' skateboard, swamp rat. It's a lost cause, sugar, ya might as well give up now an' save ya dignity."

"What dignity?" St. John snickered.

"I don' see you doin' any better, mon ami," Remy said dryly, eyeing the boy who had just recovered from a spill of his own a few moments ago.

"At least I had the bloody sense to quit," St. John retorted. "How many times do you have to fall off of that thing before you realize Cajuns just weren't meant to ride skateboards?"

"Remy like a challenge," Remy replied with a cocky grin. He glanced in Rogue's direction. "Ain't dat, right, chere?"

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Fine. Keep fallin'. What do Ah care? Jus' don't come cryin' t' me when ya break ya leg o' somethin'."

"Aww, come on, Rogue," Evan said. "It's perfectly safe. He won't get hurt. I'm a professional. I know what I'm doing."

"Oh, really?" Rogue asked, raising an eyebrow. "So ya knew what ya were doin' that time when ya tried to board down the railin' of the mansion steps? When ya fell off an' busted ya jaw wide open an' ya auntie had t' come an' bandage ya up? Ya knew what ya were doin' then?"

Evan blushed. "Uh...yeah. I mean, sort of."

"Sorta?" Rogue echoed skeptically.

"It's perfectly safe," Evan insisted, this time directing his comment at Remy. "That was one time, a long time ago. Trust me, nothing can go wrong now."

"Ten bucks says that the Cajun bloody well ends up in Harmony's med-room within the hour," St. John muttered.

"Ah think ya wrong," Rogue replied with a smirk.

"T'ank you, chere."

"It won't take that long."

Remy scowled. "T'anks fo' havin' faith in me, chere. Bon pour vous connaître pensent tellement fortement à mes qualifications."

"Ah think very highly o' ya skills, swamp rat," Rogue replied wryly. "It's ya mental condition Ah ain't so sure about."

Remy blinked, his lips parted in surprise. "Vous parlez francais, fille?"

Rogue nodded smugly. "Je devrais penser qui était évident, swamp rat," she replied with a smirk.

"Dat's somet'ing t' 'member den," Remy muttered, and Rogue grinned. He'd obviously used the fact that none of the other Acolytes understood French to get away with saying things he wouldn't have been able to otherwise. But now that he knew Rogue could understand him, he was going to have to watch what he said around her.

"If it makes ya feel any better," Rogue told him. "Ah don't speak Cajun or nothin'. Being from New Orleans, Ah figure ya must speak at least a bit o' it."

Remy's smirk reminded her of the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. "Perhaps yes, perhaps non. Guess you gon' hafta wait an' see, hahn?"

"Unless you would like for her to simply slap you and absorb that information from your brain," Piotr said evenly from his spot sitting under the tree beside Rogue.

Rogue blinked, shocked to hear him speak, much less make a joke. When she looked over at him, though, she was delighted to see a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She flashed him a broad smile. "Somehow Ah doubt he'd go fo' that, sugar, but between the two o' us, Ah figure we could always jus' beat it out o' him."

Now Piotr did smile, a real, easy smile. "Yes, we could, couldn't we?"

"Hey, no fair!" Remy protested. "No conspirin' 'gainst ol' Gambit, ya hear? Be hard enough tryin' t' deal wit jus' one o' you powerhouses. Don' need t' get trounced t' death by de both o' you!"

"I think I'd pay good money to see that," St. John said with a smirk.

Evan shook his head in amusement, obviously imagining what an interesting, not to mention quick, fight that would be. Remy was quick, agile, and his charged cards could pack a mean punch. But against Rogue and Colossus at the same time? He'd have his work cut out for him.

"Come on, homme," Remy said, turning to Evan. "Let's get t' dis. Remy gotta prove t' de p'tite femme dat he jus' as capable as de rest o' you X-men."

Evan snickered, and Rogue raised an eyebrow inquisitively. He grinned wickedly. "Just thinking about him trying to keep up with one of Logan's Danger Room sessions."

Rogue chuckled. "Ya right. That would be somethin' t' see, now wouldn't it?" She smirked at Remy. "Ya plannin' on tryin' t' board, swamp rat? Or are ya just gonna stand on it an' see what happens?"

"You jus' watch, chere," Remy warned with a wink. "Dis ol' Cajun still got a few tricks up his sleeve."

Rogue rolled her eyes, but leaned back against the trunk of the tree to watch in amusement as Evan proceeded to try an explain the aerodynamics of skateboarding to Remy. If anyone could teach Gambit to skateboard, it would be Evan, but Rogue just couldn't see the handsome Cajun riding around on a skateboard.

A motorcycle, definitely, but a skateboard?

It was just too funny.

A soft breeze washed over her, whipping her hair in her face lightly. Even before he spoke, she knew it was him. "Rogue?"

She turned her head to eye the handsome boy with the silvery white hair, ignoring the way her heart fluttered when she saw those forlorn blue eyes. She didn't speak, she didn't trust her voice enough to even try, merely raised an eyebrow in a wordless question, pressing her lips together firmly. He knew her well enough to know that was a cue for him to say whatever it was he wanted to say.

Pietro shifted uneasily, sticking his hands in his pockets. In the jeans and the black top, he looked like the boy she had met so long ago, on that first day when Mystique had brought him to the Brotherhood. But looks could be deceiving, she knew. He wasn't the boy she had known back then, anymore than she was the girl she had been at that time.

"Can we maybe take a walk?" Pietro asked, looking down at his feet instead of at her. "Together?"

There was a quiet desperation in his voice, as if he was afraid she would say no. The thought had never even crossed her mind.

She knew that Piotr was watching her, could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head, but she ignored him. Wordlessly, she stood, dusting sand off of her clothes, and raised her haze to meet Pietro's. Silently, she stepped past him, the unspoken invitation for him to follow understood.

Remy and Evan looked up from what they were doing, and even from a distance Rogue could see that they were both frowning. Neither of them liked the idea of her being alone with Pietro. Evan didn't trust him, didn't feel like she was safe in the speed demon's presence. Remy, well, even Rogue knew that the emotion that flickered across his face was jealousy. There was concern, too, but mostly jealousy. Not that she was surprised. Remy had lived with Pietro for a while now, he knew that the boy was no threat to Rogue. It was whether or not he was a threat to what Remy obviously felt for her that he wasn't sure of.

She tossed them both a warning look that clearly read for them to chill out and relax, and not to follow them. Evan gave her a begrudging nod in reply, and Remy just offered his trademark grin in acknowledgment.

Satisfied, Rogue started down the beach, Pietro in two a few steps back. They walked in silence until Rogue decided they were far enough away from the others that no one could hear them. She stopped and stared out at the waves rolling up onto the shore, waiting patiently for him to speak.

He moved to stand beside her, following her gaze. After a long moment, her patience paid off. "I never meant for you to get hurt, you know," he said softly, not looking at her.

"Ah know," Rogue replied evenly, and she did.

"I didn't want anyone to get hurt," he said quietly.

Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Anyone?" she asked, a gentle challenge in her tone. "Not even Evan?"

To his credit, Pietro didn't deny it. "I like to be the one to mess with Daniels," he retorted. "That's my job, nobody else's."

"What 'bout Wanda?" Rogue asked.

Pietro winced. "She must hate me, huh?" he asked. "Even more than she did before."

"Most likely," Rogue admitted. "Not that ya can really blame her, can ya?"

"No," Pietro sighed. "No, I can't." He shoved his hands into his pockets, staring out the horizon intently. "It used to be so simple, you know? Back when we were kids, we were inseparable. We were best friends, always wanted to do everything together, always finishing each other's sentences. We weren't just siblings, we were twins. A package deal."

Until ya father decided she was dangerous, Rogue muttered to herself. She flinched slightly, pitying the girl. Having your own parent betray you like that...

"Then our powers started to come out," Pietro said, a bitter edge to his tone. "And our father decided that Wanda needed to be locked away. For her own good, he said." He snorted, conveying what he thought about that. Rogue kept silent, but she had to agree with his opinion. "Part of the reason she hates me for it so much is that she thinks I stood by and just let him take her away."

"Did ya?" Rogue asked, in that soft tone that meant she wanted the absolute truth.

"Not exactly," Pietro replied, shifting uneasily. "I pleaded with him not to take her away. I begged, I cried, I screamed." He smiled faintly. "I even offered to never talk again."

"Quite a feat fo' ya," Rogue commented.

"Yeah," Pietro agreed in a wistful tone. "But I meant it. If he would have just let her stay, or sent me with her, I would have kept my word and stayed quiet."

"But he didn't listen," Rogue said quietly.

"No," Pietro said, shaking his head sadly. "He never does."

"Did ya miss her?" Rogue asked curiously. "While the two o' ya were separated?"

"Every day of my life," Pietro replied softly. "Without her, I felt incomplete. Like I'd been cut in half, you know?"

Rogue didn't know, she was an only child, but she nodded anyway.

"I asked about her all the time at first, but he got angry with me for it." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "I think he felt bad, on some level at least, for what he'd done. I think he missed her, though he would never admit that." He kicked at the sand with his sneakered foot. "After a while, I just stopped asking. I never stopped wondering, though." He smiled weakly. "I used to dream up all sorts of dramatic rescues, where I'd break into the place they'd taken her, and free her. Then we'd run off and be together somewhere."

"Did ya ever try?" Rogue asked.

He shook his head. "My father knew me too well, I guess. He made sure I didn't know where they were keeping her."

"Ah'm sorry," Rogue said quietly.

Pietro nodded a little in acknowledgment. "I can see why she hates me, though. I'd hate me, too, if I were her."

Rogue didn't miss the twinge of regret in his voice.

They stood in silence for a long time, just staring out at the water. It was odd, really, to be that close to him, with him less than a foot away, and yet they had never been so far apart. Rogue closed her eyes, savoring the serene moment, the stillness that she knew was hard for Pietro, for someone who lived life five times faster than the rest of the world.

The salty air stung her nostrils a bit, but it was the rich, musky scent that her mind recognized as Pietro that captured her attention. She could hear him breathing beside her, could practically feel his gaze tracing over the curves of her face. He was looking at her, she knew, she'd always been able to tell when he was looking at her.

"I still care about you," he whispered, the wind carrying his words to her ears.

"Ah know," she said, not opening her eyes. She wasn't sure she could keep the tears at bay if she did. She licked her lips slightly. "Ah still care 'bout ya, too."

A long pause, then his hesitant voice asked, "Do you hate me now?"

"No," Rogue answered quietly. "Ah could never hate ya, Pietro. Not even fo' this."

"Do you think Lance and the other guys hate me?"

Rogue shrugged slightly. "Ah don't know, Quickie. Ah can't speak fo' 'em. But Ah can tell ya this, they ain't gonna be f'gettin' 'bout this anytime soon. Ya betrayed them, Pietro. Ya betrayed us all."

"I know," Pietro said softly. "And I'm sorry."

Rogue opened her eyes and glanced at him. "Did the high and mighty Pietro Maximoff just say he was sorry?" she asked lightly. "Ah think Ah may faint from shock."

A ghost of a smile crept across his face. "Don't tell anyone, it would ruin my reputation."

"Hate t' tell ya, sugar," she replied gently. "But that's already happened."

"Yeah," Pietro sighed. "I know." He shook his head. "I'm not going to ask you guys for your forgiveness. I know I don't deserve it. But I won't apologize for helping Magneto. I can't. He's my father."

"Ya could have warned us," she admonished softly. "Ya could have given us some kind o' warnin'. Ya could have stayed t' help us, 'stead o' runnin' away."

"I'm a runner, Roguey," Pietro replied, shaking his head sadly. "I always have been. That's my calling in life. It's what I do. I run."

Rogue bit her lip. "Someone once told me, a while back," she began slowly. "That mah powers didn't decide who Ah was, didn't decide mah life for me. That it was mah decisions that decided that."

"Hey, no fair using my own words against me," Pietro protested weakly.

"Ya were right, though, Pietro," she told him. "Ya should listen t' ya own advice for once. Ya aren't as dumb as people take ya for."

"I keep telling you, Daniels is crazy. Don't listen to anything he says about me."

Rogue smiled weakly. Her smile faded, though, and she studied his profile for a moment. He really was handsome. That had the first thing she noticed about him the day they'd met. He was tall and thin, with a wiry muscularity. His silver-shot hair was a sharp contrast to his intense sapphire eyes, giving him a dangerous look that was terribly attractive.

And he knew it, too. He knew he was good looking, and those looks had made life easy for him. That was part of the reason for his cockiness. But the other reason for his cockiness was much simpler. It was an act, a facade he kept up so people wouldn't see the insecurities he suffered, the hunger for attention. But the mask had cracks in it, if you knew how to look for them. And with all they had shared, Rogue had long since learned how to see past his facade. Pietro might act haughty and self-centered, because he was, but not nearly as much as everyone believed.

"I know that you think I made the wrong decision," Pietro said. "I know you think I was wrong. Maybe I think so, too, but that doesn't matter."

"What does matter, Pietro?" she asked.

He blew out a breath of air. "He's my father, Rogue. No matter what, he's still my father."

When she remained silent, he turned to look at her out of the corner of his eye, a troubled look about his handsome features.

"I care about him, Rogue. I know I shouldn't, but I do. I can't help it."

"Ah never that said ya shouldn't, sugar," she replied. "He's ya father. Ah understand that. He's family."

They stared at one another for a long moment, and she could feel his eyes memorizing her features, as they had done so many times in the past. "It hurt when you left us," he confessed quietly. "More than I thought it would."

"It hurt me, too," she admitted softly.

Another long moment of silence. Rogue watched him quietly, watched the flickers of emotions dancing through his eyes. His face remained expressionless, as always, but in his eyes she saw a glimmering of pain. "I'm going to try to talk to Fred sometime soon. But I wanted to talk to you first."

"Figured since Ah already beat ya senseless once Ah was less likely t' do it again?" Rogue drawled weakly.

Pietro smiled faintly. "That's part of it." He sighed, and looked up at her. "I know that saying I'm sorry isn't going to make what I did okay."

"Ah ain't sure anythin' can," she replied quietly.

"Fair enough," he said, turning his gaze back to the endless sea in front of them. Rogue wondered how he'd managed to stay still for so long. She knew that this was a record for him. He usually couldn't stand still for more than a few moments. That he was making an effort to do so told her that he really was sorry.

Not that sorry meant anything. She'd been sorry about a lot of things in her life. About Cody, about Carol. But like Carol had said, being sorry doesn't help. Being sorry can't change the past.

No matter how badly you wish it could.

"Rogue?" Pietro asked, his voice timid.

"Hmm?"

"Are we still friends?"

"Ah dunno know, Pietro," she answered honestly. "Ah jus' dunno."

They stood there for some time after that, just staring out at the ocean in silence.


Translations:

Bon pour vous connaître pensent tellement fortement à mes qualifications- Nice to know you think so highly of my skills.

Vous parlez francais, fille?- You speak French, girl?

Je devrais penser qui était évident- I'd think that was obvious